Yay! New chapter. Its not exactly what I was planning it to be, but, meh. The chap's a bit heavy on the conversation, and not even the kind of dialogue I had originally planned when I sketched this scene out…. about a year and a half ago. My, time flies. But this just means that there will be another dialogue heavy chapter to come! More yay! College courses on proper story format be damned! Maybe this is why my GPA suffers so?

And I am also incompetent. I'm sorry for the formatting of the chapter. has yet again changed and its doing funny things. Sigh.

And on two other completely unrelated author notes: Yes, I know there are mistakes in the chapters, grammatically and otherwise. I edit my own stuff, so I miss a lot. But I try really really hard, honestly! Also: I've been listening to Matthew Ryan's "Little Drummer Boy" for the last hour and The Return of the King's "Into the West" all week. It's starting to warp my brain just a tish.

Disclaimer: Dragonball and all its associates are the trademarks of Akira Toriyama, who gives all his characters funny hairstyles.

Beyond the Clouded Dawn

By Phoenix Cubed

Chapter 7

Trunks opened his eyes and listened to the sounds of the night. Instincts that he wasn't aware of dictated the necessity of light sleeping habits and a subconscious tracking of all normal day and nighttime noises. Living in a nightmare world of unwinnable war and apocalyptic conditions trained him to react quickly and in a way that didn't equate to victory, but survival.

Crickets chirped. The Red Army owl hooted softly from a tree outside his window, taking note of something interesting in the moonlit world. Perhaps it was a mouse, or possibly a brave squirrel out for a night gathering of nuts. Maybe even an android stalking its next plaything. Trunks continued to listen.

A light thud pattered against his window frame, soft as a June Bug's sigh, but enough to alert the instincts of a would-be saiyan warrior. Trunks knew immediately that a similar thud had woken him up. The bump in the night came again and he tensed, his ten-year-old mind trying hard to work out a possible battle plan. Whoever it was, was bound and determined to come through the window and as quietly as possible. Stealth would cost the intruder time and concentration, so the question was: did Trunks grab his mother and run, or use the distraction to get the jump on the invader?

Inwardly, Trunks snorted. The question was already answered. Blood pumped through his veins hard and fast at the mere thought of a fight, erasing the last vestiges of sleep and good judgment. Something, something inside him that he didn't understand, that his mother had cursed "saiyan," and an end to all ends, told him survival wasn't good enough.

The window rattled again. Trunks continued to lie still, listening as the windowpane slid upwards with a muffled sound not unlike a broom sweeping across a kitchen floor. Booted feet whispered against the thick carpet. Trunks clenched his fists in the blanket that covered his body. He'd take him by surprise as the intruder crept past. Three, two—

"Trunks you goon," a familiar voice cut through the young boy's countdown to Armageddon, "if you're going to think through your battle plan, do it in your head!"

"Gohan!" Trunks gave a start and threw back his covers. "What are you doing here," the young boy asked, sitting up in his bed to see his mentor carefully slide the window shut. Trunks made to turn on his room light, but the older demi-saiyan stopped him with a hand; so instead Trunks watched Gohan's silhouette slowly drag itself across the room, as if each next step might be the last.

"Gohan, are you all right?" Trunks asked, "What happened?"

"I'm fine. Nothing happened," Gohan grunted as he collapsed in the chair that was a fixture beside Trunks' bed. "I need some food, Trunks."

Trunks eyed the man with a mixture of worry and suspicion, "You used a senzu bean, didn't you." It was a statement, not a question, thrown into the air with a low, accusative growl. The sound caught Gohan off guard, and he almost double taked to ensure himself that it was Trunks, and not his father, that sat next to him.

Either way, the sound made him wince. "Only one."

"That's too many. You know you shouldn't," Trunks scowled at his mentor even as he hopped from his bed and walked over to his dresser on the other side of the room. "Mother warned you that the senzu beans weren't good for you right now." Trunks pulled out a small dino cap and compressed the button. There was a puff of smoke as the capsule exploded into a giant bento box with a top that didn't quite close. Crab legs and bits of octopus peeked out of the opening.

Trunks grunted under the unexpected weight before heaving the dinner for eight at Gohan. "You gotta—oof!—eat all this, if you don't wanna get really sick tomorrow."

The bento box dropped onto Gohan's lap, the lid popping fully open to reveal not only a variety of sushi and local noodle dishes, but a container of spaghetti and what Gohan suspected might be half a chicken. He sighed, "I don't think that's avoidable, Squirt."

"It would be if you ate regularly," Trunks replied, watching as Gohan broke apart a pair of chopsticks and began fiddling with the spaghetti.

Gohan gave his young friend a look. "We've been through this, Trunks."

The boy sighed in response, dropping his chin to his chest. "Yeah, maybe, but I still don't understand. I mean, I don't think that Goku—"

"Where's your mom, Squirt?" Gohan shoved a devilled egg into Trunks' open mouth. He'd had enough of that today.

"I' dhu 'rabh." Trunks attempted a coherent answer around the egg and yolk fluff, paprika spraying from his mouth as he spoke.

Gohan wiped the strayed devilled yolk from his cheek and stood up. "The lab, huh? She's been in there a while."

"Yeah," Trunks agreed, standing also to follow Gohan out the room's door. "I think she's finally about to crack some equation she's been working on a while now. Something about time."

"Time? As in clocks?" Gohan floundered his way through the Briefs' house, trying to remember his way to the kitchen without the aid of light

"Time, as in travel." Trunks flitted around the blindly groping Gohan, taking the empty bento box from the man's hand as he did. "Still hungry?"

"Never hungry."

"But you still want more?" Trunks hooked a left around a sheet-covered couch.

"Need more." Gohan followed Trunks' movement.

Trunks tisked and shook his head, pausing at the doorway Gohan recognized as the kitchen's entrance. "Shouldn't have had that senzu bean."

"Who had a senzu bean?"

The kitchen light clicked on to reveal the Briefs matriarch in her full glory: a tattered lab coat over lumpy cotton pajamas, red rimmed bifocals perched on a petite, though somewhat pointy, noise, and long blue green pulled back in a loose pony tail tied at the base of her neck. She blinked owlishly at the boys before her, one hand poised on the freezer door, the other accessorizing her outfit with a carton of marmalade ice cream.

"Mom!"

"Bulma!"

"Well, hello you two." Bulma shut the freezer and moved to the silverware drawer, drawing out a miniature shovel. "Trunks, why are you up so late? And what's this I hear about a senzu bean?"

Trunks and Gohan exchanged desperate looks, "uh…"

Sensing something amiss, the bespectacled owl morphed into a clear-eyed hawk. Her sharp vision swept up and down Gohan's barely erect form, taking in his shaking legs and trembling hands before she looked straight into his pale, drawn face. Gohan watched the storm clouds build and tensed, preparing for a tongue-lashing.

Instead he got a defeated sigh. "For Kami's sake, Gohan, sit down before you pass out. Trunks, feed him."

She was rewarded with two sheepish looks. "Yes, ma'am."

Bulma rolled her eyes at the two boys and she seated herself at the island table. She ignored Gohan's careful climb into a chair across from her own in favor of pulling the lid off her ice cream.

"Oh!" Bulma exclaimed, "I just adore marmalade! Its so hard to come by these days." The oversized spoon dipped straight into the carton and then made a beeline to her mouth. Three more shovel scoops followed in quick succession to the first before the woman paused to execute delicate tongue licks around the edge of her spoon. "A Guinness would top it off, really. Too bad I drank the last bottle when I proved the flux theory." Bulma gave a dramatic sigh, "a genius like myself should have more opportunities to celebrate properly."

"What happened, Mom?" Trunks asked between bites of cereal. Cheerios never died; they just got a little stale as expiration dates passed by. "What did you do?"

"Something secret." Bulma's eyes twinkled behind her scratched lenses. "The theory's still in the developing stage, but the equation is right and the proof is all laid out."

"That's great!" Trunks took another bite. "Can I see your work soon?"

Bulma dug deep into her ice cream. "You'll do more than see it, son. If the theory holds."

Gohan looked up from his meatloaf. Something in the way she had said that…

"Must be a pretty interesting theory, Bulma, if it's got you both this excited."

"Hm," the scientist agreed, twirling the tip of her spoon against her bottom lip. "It is. But not as interesting as another theory I have."

The older of the half-breeds popped a head of broccoli into his mouth. "Which is that?"

"You've heard it before, I think." Bulma cocked a deep blue eyebrow at the young man. "About senzu bean healing abilities its and effects on the body."

Gohan stopped chewing and swallowed hard. He was getting that tongue lashing after all. "Aa—"

"Yes, very interesting, I'd say," Bulma continued, deliberately not watching Gohan squirm in his chair. She instead used her spoon to draw patterns in her softening marmalade ice cream. "Those senzu beans are amazing. Took me forever to realize that it was the chewing action that released the metabolic compounds, not just breaking the sucker open." The pattern in her dessert had become a picture, a flame. "From there it was easy for someone as smart as I am; just follow the reaction!" Bulma gave her audience a thumbs up; she drew an oblong circle beneath the flame. "A miracle of nature, really, those beans. Using stored energy in the body to facilitate natural healing and regeneration—I don't think it would have been possible without Kami's help. He was a clever green bean."

"They both were," Gohan stared down at his half empty plate. Trunks looked up from his fourth helping of Wheaties.

"Maybe, but not clever enough." Bulma replied. She'd accidentally nicked her circle, and a heavy line ran across, just over the middle, like a heavy set of eyebrows, or scowling eyes. "If Kami was really smart, he would have stored the energy necessary to heal the body in the bean itself, instead of relying on the person to have enough of a supply to get through the process." She looked meaningfully at Gohan, "because when there's no stored energy, like if someone doesn't eat, then the senzu bean has to utilize other sources, and will keep drawing on the body until it digests. And—"

"And I get it," Gohan replied, trying hard not to sound irritated. "I'll be sucked dry. I know Bulma, I know."

"Well," Bulma huffed. 'There's no need to get testy."

Gohan rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "Of course not."

A wet splat smacked against Gohan's cheek. The saiyan touched his cheek and drew his fingers back to see orange cream running down his skin.

"Behave, young man," Bulma waved her spoon at him in a threatening manner and bits of marmalade ice cream flew from the silverware with every shake of her hand. "This is serious. Those beans will you eat you from the inside out, if you don't take care of yourself."

"I'm trying," Gohan replied, wiping away the offending ice cream.

"Try harder," came the blunt reply. Bulma tried smooth out the crater she had formed from her earlier stabs. "I hope for whatever reason you used it was important enough to risk yourself like that."

"Important," Gohan hedged, "important enough."

"But you're not going to tell me exactly what." Bulma let one blue eyebrow hike to her hairline.

Gohan shook his head and reached over to spear a slice of meat. It went straight into his mouth while two more appeared on his plate.

"Well, be that way then," Bulma sniffed, "but keep in mind that unless you start eating regularly and put on some serious poundage, you won't be able to safely use another senzu bean for…six months or so, I'd say."

Gohan choked on his fork. "Six months!"

"At least!" Bulma emphasized. "Minimally, it'll take that long for your body replace what it lost today in terms of what energy stores you had left and what mass it took from the rest of you. Those senzu beans are dangerous for you right now, Gohan. Use one again soon and you won't be ill—you'll be dead. And I don't know how well your mother would take that, all things considered."

At that, Gohan was silent for a count of breaths. He stared hard at the table space in front of him, and Bulma could see him weighing the options with the risks. Her spoon ticked back in forth in the ice cream, meticulously adding details to picture she couldn't quite figure out yet. Maybe it was a monkey. No, more like, a person, a man—

Gohan let out an explosive breath. "You're right," he conceded, "as usual. I'm running low, anyway. No more."

"Good." Bulma smiled, "its nice to see that you still have some sense left."

"Bulma…"

"Now, about sleeping arrangements." The scientist ploughed past Gohan's tortured sigh, "you can lay out a futon in the den. Trunks, go fetch Gohan an extra quilt or two. There should some in the hall closet."

"Sure, Mom." Trunks hopped from his stool and scurried from the kitchen. He'd remained a near mute for the entire conversation between the two adults, not an easy task for any ten-year old, so the chance to run the errand was a welcome relief.

The boy hurried down the hall to the closet. He kicked the door a few times to give the mice a chance to scuddle out of the way before grabbing the door and letting it swing wide. Trunks had barely enough time to let out a startled "ack!" before an avalanche of cloth greeted him, knocking him down and burying him beneath a mountain of thermal blankets, folding cots, spare futons, and pillows.

Good grief, he thought, pushing aside the waves of blankets to surface at the top of the pile. I know we gotta stockpile, but this is ridiculous! Trunks sputtered and thrashed his way through the blankets. With all the supplies his mother had accumulated, they'd be able to safely house half the city when the androids next came through. The thought made him pause.

When they came.

Not if.

Extracting himself from the pile, Trunks meticulously refolded each blanket and mattress and tucked them back into the closet, making sure to leave one out for Gohan. He eyed the stack and decided that there was enough room for a half dozen more, then reached for the pillows to place on top of the quilts. Any little bit more would help.

Heading back down the hall, Trunks approached the kitchen in time to catch the tail end of a conversation.

"—Chi Chi will understand. I'll call her first thing tomorrow to tell her you're having breakfast with us instead."

A breath of relief, "Thank you, Bulma. I appreciate this—and everything." Gohan's shadow appeared in the doorway, his body stopped from following by the silhouette of slender, shaking hand catching his elbow. With a start, Trunks realized that it was his mother's.

"Just tell me, Gohan. Today, the senzu bean. It wasn't the androids, was it?"

"No, not this time." There was a smile in Gohan's voice, warm and reassuring.

Bulma must have thought so, too. Trunks watched the hand's shadow fall from Gohan's. Happy, relieved, tired.

"Oh, thank God—"

A chuckle. "No, not God, Bulma." The boy watched the outline of his mentor's shoulders shake with an unspoken joke. "Definitely not God. By the way, your ice cream's melting."

There was a surprised exclamation and a curse. Trunks heard Gohan chuckle again as his silhouette in the doorway became corporal. The older half saiyan's exhausted but large, bright eyes caught sight of Trunks paused by the light switch.

"Hey squirt, got those blankets?"

"What? Oh, yeah." Trunks fumbled with the sleeping supplies as he tried hard not to look like an eavesdropper, "you wanna sleep in the den, right?"

"Sure," the older of the half-breeds smiled and took the futon and quilt from the boy. "Then tomorrow, how about you and I spend the day together?"

Trunks' eyes widened. "You mean it? Just you and me?"

"You and me, kiddo." Gohan winked, "so get some sleep."

"All right!" Trunks jumped in the air and whooped, much too animated for a person up during the witching hour, then sped past the kitchen with a quick holler of good night to Gohan and Bulma, promising to see them both in the morning.

Gohan laughed quietly at the child's antics, rearranging the wrinkled futon mattress in his arms for a better grip. "You wouldn't guess he was sick just a day ago, would you, Bulma. Bulma?"

Confused at her failure to respond, Gohan stepped back into the kitchen. "Bulma? Is everything…okay…" Gohan stopped as he witnessed the older woman staring down at her tub of ice cream with a mixture of horror and fascination. Gohan watched with his own disbelief as the normally collected scientist's face collapsed and tears began rolling down her cheeks to fall into the container in front of her. Bulma reached for the spoon she'd been wielding all night, and with surprising force stabbed at her ice cream. The softened dessert gave way under her attack and the demi-saiyan watched as she swirled the marmalade ice cream with desperate, forceful strokes before slamming the lid back on the carton and hurling the container into the garbage compactor. Her back to him, Gohan slipped out of the kitchen. No, everything was not all right.

From the den, snug between the thick futon mattress and two old, mouse smelling quilts, Gohan closed his eyes and pretended that the soft sobbing he heard drifting through the house was just another night noise. Crickets chirped. An owl hooted at the moon. A woman cried in her kitchen. Just like home.

The food in his belly turned to lead. Nightmares stole his sleep.

Just like home.

This is also why I ended a bit short. I got to that ending and was like, no way can I write anything after that. I wanted to rewrite the chapter end a bit, but then decided I like the way it stops. Its uncomfortable, both emotionally and format wise. Or it seems that way to me. Anyway, tell me what you think!

P.S. A big shout out to all of you who reviewed the last few times. I'm so sorry I forgot to thank everyone! Its great to read review and very encouraging, especially those of the frequent visitors and leavers of multi-liners. And to those that don't review but still stop by, I hope you keep coming back and that the story remains worth your time.